


Officer's Poker

by emocezi



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emocezi/pseuds/emocezi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the end of the third hand, and Lipton could feel something different in the air tonight. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it might have had something to do with being in the Eagle's nest, Hitlers private hotel. Nixon looked sly, well, slyer then usual. He had a smirk that never seemed to leave his lips, even when he sipped his VAT 69.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Officer's Poker

_**Officer's Poker**_  
 **Author:** [](http://emocezi.livejournal.com/profile)[**emocezi**](http://emocezi.livejournal.com/)  
 **Title:** Officer's Poker  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Wordcount:** 1565  
 **Pairing:** Spiers/Lipton, Mentions of Winters/Nixon  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own _Band of Brothers_ nor do I make a profit from this work of fiction.  
 **A/N:** So. Hi. A couple friends of mine recommended Band of Brothers to me about two weeks ago. So I went out and bought the box set. I've marathoned it twice already and am already working on a third go round. I might have gotten a tad obsessed.

Anywho, I apparently can't just write silly fics. Because Spiers eventually finds a way into Lipton's pants. Not that I'm complaining about this.

Thanks to [](http://bookstorequeer.livejournal.com/profile)[**bookstorequeer**](http://bookstorequeer.livejournal.com/) for helping me flail about, and listening to my pornings. Such a hard job on her part.

Also, can I get an author tag. I have a feeling I might be writing more then a few fics.

It wasn't the first time Lipton had joined in with the other officers, playing poker with the little money they had. Sometimes they played with bullets. Other times with whatever they could scrounge up. Tonight, they were playing with stolen silverware and a few chocolate bars.

Nixon for once was fairly sober and didn't have to check his cards more then once. Lipton had managed to figure out the other men's tells from the few games they'd already played. Welsh stroked a hand across his chin when he had a good hand, and tended to scratch the tip of his ear when he had nothing. Nixon would swirl his glass when he had a solid hand, and drink when he had nothing. And Spiers, Spiers would look at his cards when he had nothing, and tended to stare directly at Lipton when he had a good hand. It was unnerving to say the least.

It was the end of the third hand, and Lipton could feel something different in the air tonight. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it might have had something to do with being in the Eagle's nest, Hitlers private hotel. Nixon looked sly, well, slyer then usual. He had a smirk that never seemed to leave his lips, even when he sipped his VAT 69.

“What d'you say boys. Care to up the ante?” Nixon asked, lounging back in his seat. Welsh smirked at the other man and shrugged. Spiers raised an eyebrow and Lipton wondered what the hell was being said with out words.

“Sir?” Lipton wondered for a moment on why exactly Major Winters never joined in on their game.

“Strip Poker fellas.”

“What Kitty doesn't know.” Welsh smirked.

“Been a while.” Spiers added, flicking his gaze to Lipton who wondered if he should be making an excuse to flee.

“I...uh....”

“Come on Lipton, live a little. You can have a little fun every now and again.” Nixon coaxed the Second Lieutenant. The man looked a little skittish, and Christ, even Dick had commented on Spiers and the way he stalked the Second Lieutenant. If Nixon could find a way to move those boys along, by God, he'd do it.

After a moment Lipton shrugged and nodded, refusing to make eye contact with any of the other men. Welsh cackled like a hag and Nixon grinned and started dealing. He had a feeling this was about to get interesting pretty quickly, considering the tension surrounding Spiers and Lipton had upped until Nixon could practically taste it at the back of his throat.

XxX XxX

Twenty minutes later had Lipton minus both shoes and one sock. Welsh's over shirt was laying on the floor and he had his naked feet up on the table and was steadily puffing on a lucky strike. Nixon had no shirt and no shoes. And Spiers, had no shoes, no socks, and no shirt. He was staring at Lipton who was ignoring him with a single minded intensity that was normally reserved for watching the line.

“I'll wager my pants.” Nixon muttered, looking at his pair of Queens. It was a decent hand, but Second Lieutenant Lipton had proven to have a poker face that rivaled his own. It was that half innocent stare that no man who had been serving with Easy Company since Toccoa should have.

“I'll take you up on that.” Welsh decided. Spiers grunted his assent without taking his eyes off of Lipton who shrugged and nodded. Nixon smirked and laid down his painted ladies, the smirk dropped off his face when Harry laid down two kings and grinned. Spiers grimaced and stood to unzip his trousers, kicking them off his feet and settling back into his chair. Nixon followed his actions and waited for Lipton to do the same, and honestly, it was a little unsettling to see that sort of a smirk on Lipton's face.

Lipton laid down three aces, the cards on the table giving him two pair and the highest hand. Welsh groaned and shimmied out of his pants while Lipton grinned.

“Another hand gentlemen?” The Second Lieutenant asked, all false innocence.

“Nope. I'm out. Dick catches me playing strip poker again and he might hang my up by my ears.”

“Oh, is that why they're so big?” Welsh asked with a grin and dodged the boot thrown his way. “I'm out too. Got a letter to write to Kitty.”

“I'll play.” All of the sudden the room got a little smaller and Lipton swallowed reflexively, meeting Spiers' eyes for the first time in two hours. He wanted desperately to be the kind of man who could offer a wink and a smile and take a rain cheque on everything Ronald Spiers was offering. Instead he could feel his skin heating up, a low flush working it's way across his cheeks and down his neck, getting lost under the collar of his shirt.

“You boys have fun now.” Harry patted Spiers on the shoulder as he wiggled back into his pants, Nixon doing the same beside him. The Captain grinning unabashedly at the sight and wondering what to tell Dick if his Second Lieutenant showed up the next morning looking like he'd been mauled. Nixon and Welsh were out the door and Lipton laid his cards on the table and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I just had a thought. You can't play poker with only two guys.” He muttered and pushed his chair back to stand.

“I guess you win by forfeit then.” Spiers murmured and Lipton jumped when the door behind them closed with a loud click that echoed in the room. The Captain sat forward and pulled off his shirt, sitting in the chair with only his army issued skivvies and a smirk. Lipton tugged at the collar of his shirt and wondered when it had gotten so hot. “You gonna collect your prize. Carwood.”

“I...uh....oh fuck it.” Lipton pushed himself up out of his chair and met Spiers halfway, mouths pressing together desperatly. “You always watch me.” He managed between kisses. “It's distracting.”

“I can't help it.” Spiers muttered, nosing at Lipton's jaw until he tilted his head and let the Captain lay claim to the column of his throat. Spiers let his hands drift over Lipton's back, lower and lower until he finally, _finally_ got his hands on that ass.

For a few seconds, they were acting more like love sick teens, groping and necking. Finally, Spiers seemed to clue into the situation and pushed Lipton up onto the table, pulling at his clothes.

“Get this off.”

“Okay, okay. Let me up.” Spiers backed off just long enough for Lipton to pull off both of his shirts and then dove straight back in, pressing his mouth against the shadow of Lipton's clavicle. He moved down the other man's body, breath coming in pants when he heard the startled oath Lipton gave, cluing into the situation as Spiers attacked the button on his trousers.

“Lift your hips.”

“You don't...you don't have to...”

“I _want_ to.”

“Oh. _Oh_. Ahh. Ron. Oh God. Your mouth. Fuck.” It was a little shocking to discover that Carwood Lipton didn't make the soft noises that Spiers had imagined pulling from him with the long slow pulls of his tongue over rigid flesh. But the reality that he could make Lipton lose it like this outweighed any fantasy that he might have had.

It was over quickly. Months of living on edge combined with the heat of Spiers' mouth had Lipton coming harder then he ever had. Spine arching until it popped, one hand fisted in Spiers' hair, the other one over his mouth, stifling his groans.

Spiers shuddered, mouthing at Lipton's thigh, covered in small white lines from the shrapnel that had nearly emasculated him in Bastogne. They were silent for a moment and when Spiers lifted his head he found Lipton watching him, fascination in every line on his face.

“Do you want me to...”

“Don't worry about it.”

“Oh. Uh.” Lipton flicked his eyes away, not sure how to respond to the fact that making him come had been hot enough to drive Spiers over the edge with no added stimulation. “I should...get going.” He made a move to tug up his pants and stopped when Spiers pinned his hands to the table.

Spiers moved in, standing inbetween Lipton's still spread legs and laying claim on his mouth. Letting the Second Lieutenant taste himself on Spiers' tongue. “I'm not done with you yet.”

“....Okay.” Lipton let himself be dragged down to the floor and kissed into submission.

  
XxX XxX

Dick Winters shot his Intelligence Officer a glance as Carwood Lipton moved his way carefully from one building to the next, taking the time to salute the Major as he passed.

“Lewis?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why is Lipton limping?”

“I have no idea. Maybe he caught a ricochet to the leg.” Nixon muttered, completely straight faced, wicked humor in his voice. Dick opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, and cursed his pale complexion when he felt his face start to burn.

“Lew. Shut up.”

“Yes _Sir_.”

XxX XxX


End file.
